Happily Ever After
by Kneazle
Summary: [ABANDONED] Hermione is caught in an alternate universe where Harry Potter is a Prince and Voldemort is the evil Vizier that has taken over Harry's world it's up to Hermione to save the day and rescue him!
1. Happily Ever After 1

Happily Ever After

Kneazle

--//\\--

Disclaimer: I do not own characters, places, or names associated with Harry Potter. They belong to JK Rowling, Scholastics and Warner Bros. Based slightly after the Care Bear's Nutcracker Christmas Suite.

Plot Keyword(s): Slight AU; Fairy Tale

Central Character(s): Hermione Granger, Harry Potter

Summary: Hermione is caught in an alternate universe where Harry Potter is a Prince and Voldemort is the evil Vizier that has taken over Harry's world – it's up to Hermione to save the day and rescue him!

  


--//\\--****

CHAPTER ONE

            Hermione Granger had a splitting headache. She had been studying in the library when she had realized that it was past curfew. She placed the books that she had taken from the shelves back on their appropriate places, reading the titles over as she did so.

_Hans Christian Fairy Tales… Mother Goose Grim… Ali Baba and the Forty Thieves… Rapunzel… Cinderella… _

Sighing, Hermione fondly ran a finger over the last title, smiling slightly. Childhood dreams. What was that quote again? Ah, yes… _"The universe is made of stories, not atoms."_

How true that rang for her very life – a life filled with knowledge and facts that she recited from her memory; and a life filled with dreams and hopes and goals from a time long forgotten where princes and princesses reigned, where dragons and fairy tales were all that she cared about.

Hermione wasn't a little girl anymore. She was a seventeen-year-old witch who spent nine months of a year at Hogwarts studying to become a qualified witch under the tutelage of Masters. She was a brilliant student with a reputation of being a "goody-goody", only dealing with facts and never fiction.

And yet here she was in the library at two in the morning, reading fairy tales. Will the wonders never cease?

"It's not like anything will come of it," she whispered in the dark, moving slowly in the shadows towards the library's door. "Dreams and hopes are for those who live in the clouds and in their imagination. Not for someone like me."

Not having the Marauder's Map, or Harry's invisibility cloak, Hermione made her way gingerly around Mrs. Norris, Filch, and Professor Snape as she managed her way back towards the Gryffindor Tower.

            The Muggleborn witch crouched low behind a statue of Humphrey the Horrid, her breathing slightly ragged as she had just out-run Mrs. Norris for a second time in the past ten minutes.

            "Damn cat – shouldn't be allowed in the school," muttered the mahogany-haired teen, as her cinnamon eyes darted back and forth along the shadows to look for tall-tale signs of intruders.

            Finding none, she darted forward quickly, glancing backwards and forwards before finding the picture of the Fat Lady.

            "Pop tarts!_ Pop tarts!** Pop tarts!**_" she shouted, as the portrait flung open. She darted inside, landing on her side as she glanced at the now closed portrait. Sighing, she laid her head down, rubbing her cheek against the soft, downy red of the Gryffindor Common Room. She had never been so happy as to feel its fabric before.

            Sighing in bliss, she slowly stood, running her hand lovingly through the carpet before gathering her books that she didn't place back on the shelves in her arms, which were teetering uncertainly, as she began up the winding stairs to the girl's dorms. 

            She had barely made it half way up when two of her top books began to slide around and teeter on the edge of the third. 

            "Oh… oh no!" the seventeen year old groaned, as the books began to fall. Completely forgetting that she was a witch, Hermione resorted to Muggle tactics. Twisting her weight, she shifted to try to catch them, but only succeeded in losing her balance.

            With a muffled shriek, the teen fell backwards, her back landing painfully on a couple steps before her head snapped back, and then forward as she rolled. Her shoulder hit the stone wall as her body turned under Earth's gravity, and then bounced the rest of the way down, landing with a painful _thud_ on the red carpet floor, blood beginning to soak in it, underneath her hair.

            "Ooo," moaned Hermione once, then twice as stars and lights appeared around her head, only to finally lose all sense of consciousness.

--//\\--

            When Hermione came to, she only felt the throbbing pain in tune with her heartbeat as it hit sensitive nerves behind her eyes. Her tailbone, neck, legs and right shoulder were all sore, as well, and the sticky feeling that attached itself to Hermione's head didn't do anything to lessen her worries.

            What had happened again? Oh yes – she had lost her balance like any normal Muggle and forgot that she could levitate her books to her room. Yes, ladies and gents, Hermione Granger was officially an idiot.

            Fluttering her eyes open slowly, Hermione first noticed the sunlight. It was far too high in the air to be before classes. The second thing Hermione noticed was the silence. No matter what time of the day, there was always some noise in the Gryffindor Common Room. Was there a Quidditch Match against Slytherin? That was the only exception.

            Slowly, Hermione dragged her feet from their rut on the stairs, and slipped them beside her before she slowly stood. Stumbling slightly, her brown eyes surveyed the Common Room.

            There weren't any couples snogging – no Trevor croaking that he was lost – no, well, _nothing_. It was dead.

            Or so she thought.

            It was the loud bump from above her that alerted Hermione of another presence in the Gryffindor Tower beside herself. She knew that above the common room was the Seventh Year Boy's Dorm, so Hermione hoped that it was either Harry or Ron that were in there.

            Moving towards the stairs, she forced her mind to think of her aches and pains and check if everything else was fine and not bruised. It wasn't until she reached the stairs and had started a few steps up when she noticed something was different.

            Very different.

            Turning, with a gaping mouth, Hermione surveyed the Common Room for the first time. Instead of the normal tables and couches and armchairs, there were only two couches, a roaring fire in the hearth, small side tables, and a very open space between the two couches. Bookshelves lined the walls instead of portraits of earlier Gryffindors, and there was no Girl's Staircase leading to their dorms – instead the stairs wound down, towards the lower levels of the Gryffindor Tower (those of which Hermione had never seen before in her life).

            "Okay, I think that fall hit me harder than I thought," she whispered, before turning and making her way up the stairs, determined to speak to _whomever_ was up there.

            The stairs went round and round until Hermione finally reached the top. There weren't any other doors for the younger years, just one solid oak door at the very top. Windows lined the passageway up, though, and when Hermione looked out of them, she saw lush forest and green fields – but no Quidditch stands or greenhouses or the lake. Confused, she began to stare at the door.

            It was simple oak, of a deep colour, but what was strange were the heavy iron handles and hinges that held the door in place. Above the door, engraved on the stone arch read: _Here resides the Prince of Leonis, kept in the tower till the end of time_

            "Well," chuckled Hermione quietly, "I never knew the boys had a flair for dramatics."

            She raised an eyebrow before whipping her wand out from her sleeve and pointing it at the heavy iron handle. "_Alohomora_!"

            The door swung open silently, and Hermione stepped into the room with an air of confidence. It did, however, slam shut behind her. 

            She looked confused for a couple of seconds before shrugging, and turning back to face in interior of the room when she felt two hands around her neck, pressing tightly against her wind pipe, and cutting her air supply off.

            "Another assassin sent to kill me? How very unoriginal of the Vizier," the male voice spoke, as Hermione's eyes fogged over as she tried very hard to breath.

            "Look," she rasped, "I don't know what you're – you're going on about. Could you – you please let go of me so we can s-sit down and talk this out like – like civilized p-people?"

            The hands did not remove from her neck, but they did loosen enough for Hermione to breath. She felt the cold stones press up against her back, seeping into her skin as she shivered. 

            Looking up, Hermione nearly rolled her eyes. Emerald green bore into her chocolate eyes, barely inches from her face. 

            "Harry, kindly remove your hands from my neck. I'm in no mood to play your silly 'Let's practice defense moves so we can kick Death Eater ass' today. Why don't you and Ron do this to Seamus or Dean instead of me for a change?" she asked, sighing as she rolled her shoulders slightly to remove the kinks. 

            The two black eyebrows drew together to form an angry V. "Don't you _dare_ call me Harry, wench – you have no permission to do so! To you, I am Prince Harry!"

            Hermione pushed down the urge to snort. "Wow, all that Colin and Dennis Creevey worshipping has really left you with a big ego. Okay, I'll play your game for now, _Prince Harry_."

            The hands left Hermione's neck, withdrawing to hang at the teenager's sides. Taking a step back, Harry glanced at Hermione from head to toe.

            "Good God, woman, what in heaven's name are you wearing?" he demanded. 

            Hermione started. "Clothes, Harry. God, what bit you in the ass this morning? Did you have another Voldemort nightmare or did Snape give you a detention?"

            Harry growled and took a menacing step forward, giving Hermione the chance to finally look him over. He wore richly coloured clothes: a forest green button-down tunic to match his eyes; brown pants; and an overcoat of blood red with long sleeves that tapered off in a peasant style. His eyes were framed by small glasses that were oval-shaped and made out of some form of metal that Hermione wasn't familiar with.

            All in all, this "Prince" Harry looked nothing like her best friend.

            "What the hell are you wearing?" she blurted. "And what are you doing locked up in here? Don't you have your wand? Where's Ron, or the other Gryffindors? Did something happen that made you stay up here? Was it Snuffles? Or Dumbledore?"

            Harry took another step forward, bringing his hand out and pointing it at Hermione to accentuate his words. "Madam, I have no idea who you are, or what you're babbling on about, but I am warning you – my name is Prince Harry and I deserve to be called as such!"

            Hermione was floored. "What do you mean, _Prince Harry_? You're my best friend! You have been with Ron Weasley since we were eleven and met on the train to Hogwarts!"

            Harry frowned. "What is this 'Hogwarts' that you speak of? And you – a commoner – my best friend, you say? My best friend is my squire, Ronald."

            "Ron, see?" Hermione cried. She then frowned, "I don't think he'll like being called a squire. You know he gets jealous of you and your fame easily enough."

            Harry's frown deepened. "Woman, what are you speaking of?"

            "Woman, woman, woman!" cried out Hermione, throwing her arms in the air. "I have a name, Harry, and it's _Hermione_. Can you at least remember that, and stop being such a prat and listen to me?"

            "I would much rather face the Vizier than listen to your shrill voice continue on like this," he snarled, before setting his hands on his hips. "At least the Vizier is gracious enough to spare small talk and get on with the torture he has planned for me."

            "Vizier? Vizier who? Do you mean You-Know-Who? Voldemort?" questioned Hermione. "And why are you speaking like something out of a history novel? What's going on, Har—"

            Harry stepped forward, his hand covering Hermione's mouth as his eyes darted towards the door. Faint footsteps could be heard tapping alongside the stone steps, getting louder as they came closer to the door.

            "Hide, wench!" Harry hissed, pushing Hermione towards a bed and couch. "Find somewhere to hide!"

            Hermione, confused more than ever, did as Harry said and ducked behind the couch, holding her breath as she heard a key being inserted into a lock. A click told her that whomever was behind that door could easily get in and out.

            Peeking from behind the couch, Hermione observed Harry. He didn't seem like there was a spell on him – but he was hardly the best friend she had met so many years ago. Having just seen Harry yesterday for dinner made Hermione wonder what had happened while she was in the library.

            The door swung open, and in stepped Lucius Malfoy, grinning evilly and thoroughly enjoying Harry shift his weight to reveal his discomfort. This, however, was not the Lucius Malfoy of her memory. This Lucius wore gold trimmed black pants, with a notched deep red shirt with the cuffs open. They were rolled up to his elbows, and he wore one black leather glove with a wide cuff on his right hand – something that Hermione thought only theatrical pirates wore. His other hand was adorned with two silver rings (large and plain). His blond-silver hair was pulled back into a ponytail with a black ribbon tied around it to keep it in place. He did, though, wear his trademark sneer and had the steely gray-blue eyes.

            "Well, well, if it isn't the little Prince," he sneered. "Where's your Leonis courage now? Has it deserted you like you deserted your people?"

            Hermione's head reeled. What the hell was Malfoy going on about? She shook her head and forced herself to listen to the rest of the conversation.

            "My courage never falters," said Harry stubbornly. "It's always there."

            "How very **_Gryffindor_** of you," answered Lucius in disgust. "It seems your ancestors left you with a gift that would be of no use."

            Harry shrugged. "That has yet to be determined."

            Lucius swaggered slightly before giving Harry a one-over. Finally, he said, "The Grand Vizier will be expecting you shortly. He is giving you some time to… _regroup_ what is left of your mind. Then… he will begin his inquisition all over again."

            "He will get nothing out of me."

            "We shall see, little lion, we shall see. You cannot keep your secret forever."

            "Sure I can," replied the teen in the closest phrase of the old Harry that Hermione had heard so far, "and you can be assured that I will never reveal where the bracelet is."

            _Bracelet? Since when does Harry wear jewelry?_

            Lucius sneered and his right hand moved towards his left hip. Hermione's eyes widened as she realized what he was going to reach for. Harry looked scared and defenseless for one split second, so it left Hermione no choice.

            Lucius pulled his sword out, a glittering, magnificent steel blade with emeralds placed on the hilt. "You little, insolent—"

            _"Expelliarmus!"_

            The sword was yanked from the pale man's hand, soaring through the sky before it landed within Hermione's reach. She stood up from behind the couch, her eyes a furious brown. "Don't you ever get tired of pretending you're superior?"

            The man was startled by seeing the young woman's presence in the Prince's room, but didn't allow it to show. How had she done magic? Only the Grand Vizier was capable of it, and no one else in the land could… 

            Sneering, Lucius began to move forward to reclaim his sword, but a quick, "_Obliverate_!" made him turn on his heels and pretend that he had never seen Hermione.

            As soon as the door shut behind him, the lock clicking into place, Harry turned to Hermione with an expression on his face that she couldn't place.

            "What?" she finally asked, placing her wand back in her sleeve pocket, "Was there something you wanted to say?"

            Harry nodded. "Where did you learn to do magic?"

            "At Hogwarts. You know, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. We're in it right now," answered Hermione, raising an eyebrow to question her friends' sanity. 

            "We're not in this Hogwarts you speak of," Harry said finally.

            "We're not?"

            "No… we're in the Grand Vizier's castle, in the land of Magus," replied Harry, looking warily at Hermione. 

            "And who is the Grand Vizier?"

            "His real name is Tom Riddle. He served the Court of Basilica for many years without giving his treason away. He advised my parents when they ruled the land."

            "Tom Riddle?" shrieked Hermione. "Good God – you're living in _VOLDEMORT'S_ castle and he hasn't killed you yet??"

            Harry shrugged. "Well, he does torture me quite often, asking for the whereabouts of a bracelet."

            "So I heard. What's this… bracelet?" Hermione asked, coming around from behind the couch to sit upon it. She was completely puzzled and confused. Where was she?

            "It's an ancient family heirloom. The links represent our world – each one something different, like law, family, war, peace, weather, love…" Harry trailed off. "Anyways. I hid it, and I refuse to tell him where it was hidden."

            "Oh God," moaned Hermione, sinking her head into her hands. "This is so _Nutcracker_ right now, I could die."

            "Nutcracker? There aren't any nuts around here to eat," pondered aloud Harry, looking at Hermione strangely. Finally, she raised her head and the two gazes met. "You're not from around here, are you?"

            Hermione shook her head. "No… I'm not."

            Harry moved towards her, sitting down on his side of the couch as he watched the young woman in strange garb and accent, try not to cry. 

            "Are you from the land across the sea?"

            Hermione let out a strangled laugh. "If only!"

            "I suppose not, then," spoke Harry, twisting his lips to the side. "Where are you from?" He tried.

            "Hogwarts. Well, Essex, actually, but that's in England. I travel to Scotland where Hogwarts is for schooling every year. It's my last year there," came a muffled reply.

            "And what do they teach you?" asked Harry, trying to be polite to the young woman who had barged into his chambers.

            "Magic," said Hermione, raising her head. "Wonderful things. Don't you have magic here?"

            "No," Harry shook his head. "Only the Vizier can do magic, and he's studied it for years, in the Great Castle of Magus."

             "Well, gee, I guess I'm one in a million, aren't I?" she muttered woefully, before squaring her shoulders and taking a look around the room. Although nicely furnished with Gryffindor red draperies and large bed, with plentiful pillows, the room didn't look welcomed. 

            Bars ran along the windows to prevent escape, and the latched door meant no one inside would get out without authorization. There were, however, round marble tables that held plates full of food, over spilling with fruits and breads, with wine goblets along side them. It was a feast for a King – or a Prince – and it hardly looked like he was being starved to death.

            "So why are you locked in here?" asked Hermione finally, her eyes returning to Harry's face.

            "When my parents were killed"—_Some things never change,_ Hermione though ruefully—"I was to become the next King of Magus. However, the Vizier wanted the throne as well, and the power of the bracelet. Since only the King could have it, and the rightful one, I hid it. He then placed me in this tower under imprisonment until I would tell him where it was."

            "And where is it?" asked Hermione, enthralled.

            Harry shot her a look. "Like I would tell you, a commoner."

            Hermione rolled her eyes. "Love, I just saved your life. I think I'm entitled to some answers here."

            Harry bit his lip, a vulnerable gesture, but finally nodded. "Okay," he said, looking around and leaning close to Hermione. He leaned so close, that his lips were on her ear. He breathed out the answer, his breath tickling the skin of Hermione's neck. It sent shivers down her spine and made her gut tighten against her will. 

            _"I've forgotten where I've placed it."_

            Oh shit. They were in so much trouble right now.

--//\\--

            Hermione paced back and forth across the bare stone floor, wondering just what they were going to do next. In a couple of hours, the Grand Vizier was going to open that door and shoo Harry out for torture. Of course, he wouldn't be able to answer the Vizier as he had the memory of a gnat, but that was really beside the point.

            The point was, where the hell was Hermione, and how the hell does she get back? 

            This boggled her scientific mind, twisting her thoughts into corners and paradoxes that she had never thought of thinking before, and left her with only one explanation. 

            She was in an alternate universe, in which Harry was a Prince, Ron was his squire, Voldemort was the Grand Vizier, Lucius his noble and second-in-command of their army… the list went on. Hermione didn't know if there was another her, but she wasn't exactly going to ponder that. Her other self should be like her, maybe a bit snobbish or common (It was Harry's fault that that word kept popping up in her monologue – he kept saying it to her… that and "wench"), but scientific enough not to scream her silliness out. 

            Sighing once more, with her hands clamped behind her back, Hermione nodded, "mhmm-ing" every so often. Finally, Harry, who had been watching her from the couch, snapped out, "What are you 'mhmming' about, Madam?"

            Hermione looked up, grinning a bit, before sitting down next to Harry. "Well, I think I've figured out a way to get everything _you_ want," she pointed at him, and then at her, "and what _I_ want."

            "And that is?" he raised an eyebrow.

            "Well. I bust you out of here, and we take off to find your squire. Then, we can put together what you remember of where you placed the bracelet, and then we go off to find it. When you get it, you come back here, kick the Vizier's ass, and then help me find a way back home. What do you think?" asked Hermione, smiling widely.

            "It's a horrible idea," replied Harry, frowning. Hermione's smile fell off her face.

            "What?"

            "I think it's horrible. You are only a commoner, who has no real power, and cannot help me escape this tower. And even if we did somehow get out, and find my squire, the chances of us finding the bracelet without spies and trouble along the way are slim to none. It's a horrible idea."

            Hermione's jaw dropped as she stared in horror and shock and anger at Harry. Who the hell did this guy think he was? Friend or no friend in another realm, he was about to be verbally assaulted by the girl with a whiplash tongue. 

            "Well, _excuse me_," she huffed, rising slowly. "Just _who_ do you think you are? I happen to be the smartest witch in a century at Hogwarts, and as for not being powerful – do you honestly want to take that chance to see what I could turn you into?" she voice began rising into a shrill shriek as she continued to hammer into Harry, who was shrinking back, as if he could melt into the seat of the couch and disappear. "And as for my plan, that's fine – if you don't like it, then you can stay in here and **rot** away until Voldemort learns that you don't know where that blasted bracelet is, and then when you admit this to him, you can go and get yourself killed – or worse, _expelled_!"

            Heaving a breath, Hermione turned and stalked to the window at the opposite side of the room, forcing herself to calm down. She had said what she wanted, and now it was up to Harry to rebuttal. If he didn't want her help, so be it. She would leave this place and find her own way home.

            She was thinking this when she heard it: laughter. Turning, she saw Harry doubled over on the couch, laughing his heart out, with tears running down his face. Anger bubbled in her again.

            "What? Think I'm funny, do you?" she started, but Harry sat up, wiping the tears from his eyes, and opened his mouth to speak.

            "Ooh… it's not t-that," he choked. "Y-You… you said," He gasped for air, "You said 'or worse, expelled'!"

            Hermione blanched, her teeth grinding together as she watched him laugh with mirth. "Glad you thought my warning to be so enjoying. If that's the way you see my help as – you're on your own!" 

            She then stalked to the door, shouting out an, "_Alohomora_!" before the door swung open. She turned in the archway, looking at Harry who was staring at her in shock. "Goodbye Harry. Royalty doesn't suit you." She turned to go, only to pause again. "Oh, and by the way… _petrificus totalus_."

            Harry's body froze, and he sat in place with his arms and legs locked together, his eyes the only things moving around. 

            "That should make you question my powers now!" she quipped, sticking her nose in the air as she walked away. 

**//\\**

**AN:** Dear God, I just had to post this. I know, I know, I should finish up "EDN" first… but this was too cute to keep on my hard drive and not share. So tell me what you all think!


	2. Happily Ever After 2

Happily Ever After

Kneazle

--//\\--

Disclaimer: I do not own characters, places, or names associated with Harry Potter. They belong to JK Rowling, Scholastics and Warner Bros. Based slightly after the Care Bear's Nutcracker Christmas Suite.

Plot Keyword(s): Slight AU, Fairy Tale

Central Character(s): Hermione Granger, Harry Potter

Summary: Hermione is caught in an alternate universe where Harry Potter is a Prince and Voldemort is the evil Vizier that has taken over Harry's world – it's up to Hermione to save the day and rescue him!

--//\\--****

CHAPTER TWO

            Hermione was halfway down the stairs when she realized that petrifying Harry wasn't probably the best way to earn his trust. Oops. 

            She sighed, stopping in the middle of the common room with her hands on her hips. Did she go back up and apologize? Or did she go up, take the charm off and then leave? She was, after all, in a new world that she had no past history of. And Voldemort was in the castle. That was another bad thing that she really didn't want to face at the moment.

            It wasn't like she was _scared_ or anything, it was just that she had faced Lord Voldemort a mere two weeks ago (yet again) as part of the Dream Team. She wasn't up to having another major battle and spending a week of missing classes in the hospital wing. 

            Twisting her lips to one side, Hermione let her arms drop to her sides. "Maybe I should just let Harry stew a bit up there. Yeah…"

            She then spotted her bag (which Lucius didn't see, wonder how?), and began to rummage through it. Textbooks, blah, blah, blah, ink, parchment, wand case, and a couple potions that she had made herself, blah, blah, blah. There was nothing that would actually help her during a coming battle with Voldemort. Or Lucius Malfoy, or Pettigrew, or… or… well, anyone. Fiddlesticks. 

            The young witch finally fell to her butt on the plush carpet, her chin in her hand. She was lost, she decided, in another world with – let's face it – no friends. Oh sure, they _looked_ like her friends, but they certainly didn't act like her friends, if Harry was anything to go by. 

            _Maybe I should apologize… _ she thought, before standing, swinging her bag over her shoulders and racing up the stairs again. She opened the door with "_Alohomora!_" and glanced around for where she left Harry.

            He was still sitting on the couch; his eyes now narrowed when they spotted her, and his mouth still open mid-laugh and mid-choke. 

            Grinning sheepishly, Hermione moved to stand in front of him. She squatted so she was at his height, and said, "Hi Harry. Look, I know I shouldn't have petrified you, but you really are an arrogant bastard. I'm going to undo the spell now – but I really need to help you find this bracelet so I can go home. That's all I want to do, y'know? I'll even help you get your kingdom back, but you need to trust me. I'm not a normal… eh, what did you always call me? Ah – wench, that's it. I'm not a normal wench. Now… I'm going to undo the spell…"

            She trailed off, standing, before bellowing out a, "_Finite incantatum!_"

            She then jumped and raced behind the couch, rolled up into a ball. She heard Harry's yell, and began shaking. If his 'welcome' back when she stepped into the room was any notion, he was the violent type. And she didn't really feel like sparring off against Harry at the moment.

            "Where the devil are you, woman? Come out and face me like a man!" he shouted into the room.

            "I'm a _woman_, not a man!" Hermione shrieked, indignantly, looking over the edge of the couch, raising her fist and brandishing it wildly at him. 

            "Aha!" the Prince said, pointing at her before he jumped on the couches' pillows and heaved himself over its backboard. He landed in front of Hermione, making her trapped between the back of the couch and Harry.

            "Eep!" the word slipped out between her lips before she could stop it, and she slammed her hands over her mouth to stop anything else that would escape them.

            "Well, woman, what do you have to say for yourself, leaving me in that state?" Harry demanded, yanking Hermione to her feet. His hands grasped her shoulders tightly, shaking her slightly. 

            "Hey! It's not _my_ fault I have an attitude disorder!" Hermione snapped, gasping afterwards as she saw Harry's beautiful emerald eyes narrow. 

            "Attitude disorder?" he repeated quietly. Hermione could hear her heart pick up pace – in terror or something else, she wasn't sure… 

            "You heard me," she continued, lifting her chin up, glaring down at him as best as she could. _Someone shut me up now… _

            "Indeed I did," all-but-snarled Harry as his hands flexed against Hermione. "I'll just have to teach you a lesson about my 'attitude disorder' as you so put it."

            Without warning, his lips descended upon hers, warm, hot and demanding. In all her memories, Hermione could never remember being kissed like that by anyone. ANYONE. 

            She responded almost immediately, tilting her head to the side and kissing him back with abandon. After what had only seemed like a few seconds, Harry pulled back, breathing hard and staring at Hermione with unfocused eyes. 

            "Good God, did I just kiss you?" he asked.

            Hermione rolled her eyes, snorted, and said, "ugh! Men!" She then proceeded to pick up her bag that she had dropped earlier, and began to move around the couch. Harry remained standing in the same position when he had pulled back from Hermione. 

            She paused by his door, tapping her foot as she regarded him. "Hello? Are you coming or what? Do you want to find this bracelet that you conveniently forgot its location at? Or do you want to stay here, be tortured and let the Grand Vizier win?"

            This snapped him out of his revere, and he nodded, following Hermione silently. She opened his door, stepped out into the hallway and began walking down a couple steps when she realized that Harry wasn't behind her.

            Backtracking, she looked at the door, her hands on her hips. Harry stood in the doorway, looking at the hallway around him and looking decidedly lost.

            Hermione felt the frown on her face melt and her eyes become softer. She said in a quiet voice, "Have you been outside your room, Harry?"

            "No," he murmured. "Not since I was captured and placed up here nearly seventeen years ago."

            "Oh boy," said Hermione, biting her lip. "We've really got a problem here." She then stalked up the stairs, grabbed Harry by his arm and continued, "It's not that hard, Harry. Just a step at a time, and you'll be out of this prison."

            "Step at a time," echoed Harry, nodding, and letting Hermione lead him down the stairs into the common room. Hermione, hoping to distract Harry from his home, told him where everything was in her world. She pointed out at windows, saying that was where this and that was, and recalling stories of her past to him.

            In awe, Harry listened attentively, enjoying the way Hermione was speaking and the way she wove such a convincing tale. He still, however, didn't fully believe that she wasn't an assassin, but her kindness and goodness seemed to offset that thought from his mind every time she glanced back at him and offered him a smile.

            She, Harry realized very early on, was going to be a complication.

--//\\--

            Harry shook his head. "No, I can't… I can't do it."

            Hermione sighed, tilting her head as she stared at this counterpart best friend. "Harry, it's not that hard. It's only a couple of feet from the ground."

            "Couple of—!" the young man started and glared at Hermione. "Madam, address me as Prince Harry, and I will remind you no further! And as for a couple of _feet_, woman, that is nearly two stories!"

            "Stories smories," said Hermione with a wave of her hand. "You've been higher."

            "I have not!"

            Hermione sighed, rubbing her temples. In a quiet voice, slumping her shoulders with sincerity, Hermione whispered out, "I'm sorry. I keep confusing you with _my_ Harry, from my world. He used to fly his broomstick amazingly."

            Harry, the Prince one that is, crossed his arms over his tunic and raised one eyebrow. He leaned against the stonewall next to a large open window. Hermione had decided that it was safer jumping than going through the open Great Hall doorway, and Harry had hesitantly agreed. Now, he wasn't so sure.

            Being twenty plus feet up didn't seem to bother Hermione, who was ready to jump down to the plush ground and then make a break for the dense forest, but Harry was very skeptical. A lot could go wrong, and he didn't really feel like breaking his royal neck. Now, he was verbalizing these thoughts, and Hermione seemed to be confusing him with her otherworldly Harry – the one she spoke so possessively and open about. It stirred something in Prince Harry's stomach, something he didn't want to think about.

            "Are you scared of heights?" Hermione asked, frowning. 

            "No," answered Harry honestly, "I just don't like this… what if I break something? What if someone sees me? They won't hesitate to shoot and kill – it is what they are trained to do, after all."

            "Gee," started Hermione with a wry grin. "Thank you for thinking of me throughout that sentence. Such faith you have in me and my plans."

            Harry rolled his eyes. "Can we just continue with this plan, woman?"

            "Hermione. Yes, and it's the only way. Then we can meet up with Ron and Ginny and whomever else we meet, and we can go find this bloody bracelet of yours and save the bleedin' day!"

            "Such language!" tsked Harry. "You truly are a commoner – a common wench."

            "And you, _sir_," stressed Hermione, "Are truly a royal pain in the arse. Now…" she stepped behind Harry. "Act like a cat and land on your feet!" With that said, she pushed him through the window, watching as he tumbled towards the ground.

            "Wingardium Leviosa!" she shouted, her wand pointed at him, as he hovered a mere two feet above the ground. 

            Harry opened his eyes when he didn't feel himself fall flat on the ground. Instead, he felt a very odd sensation; it was like he was floating, hovering in the air and feeling as light as a feather. 

            "You okay down there?" Hermione called, leaning out of the open window. Her brown hair cascaded over one shoulder, and her eyes were searching his for any sign of pain. Instead of saying he was okay, Harry shouted back in annoyance.

            "YOU DO NOT JUST PUSH PEOPLE OUT OF WINDOWS, HERMIONE!" he bellowed, before he saw her do the same thing. Instead, she didn't use her magic to stop her fall, but landed on the ground gracefully, and on her feet. 

            "Come on," she said, ignoring him, "They guards will have heard you by now. Let's make a run for it towards the Forbidden Forest."

            She had barely finished her sentence when shouts of surprise reached their ears and the clang of metal armor made Hermione shake – with adrenaline. 

            She grabbed Harry's hand, and began to drag him with her towards the forest that was only a couple hundred feet away. She let go, realizing that he could move well on his own, and glanced back.

            Big mistake.

            There were noticeable Death Eaters after her – she could name every one and knew each of their strengths and weaknesses as Death Eaters in her world, after battling with them so many times. But what made her almost stop, turn around, and yell at them were some noticeable differences.

            One, there were no wands. They were carrying _swords_. Excuse me, but, what _the fuck_?

            Two, they weren't wearing Death Eater garb of white masks and long black robes that Snape usually favoured. They were wearing Crusade-ish chain metal underneath cotton (or were it silk? Hermione couldn't tell from her distance), black tunics with the Dark Mark in white on it. Um, hello, Operator? Connect these Death Eaters to the 21st Century ASAP, please.

            Three, they looked a lot, well… _cleaner_, was the only way of saying it. They were hardly the bloodthirsty rape-kill-plunder-sack Death Eaters of her world. They looked liked kittens and puppies compared to their Doberman and Alley Cat counterparts. 

            Panting, Hermione and Harry plunged into the forest, not stopping as branches and trees whipped against their skin, breaking it, or when they tripped over roots. They only got back up and continued, until they couldn't hear the Death Eaters behind them, and couldn't hear any sounds of civilization. 

            Panting, Harry placed his hands on his knees as he bent slightly over, and rasped out, "How did you know this was called the Forbidden Forest?"

            "That's what it's called back home," replied Hermione. "We're not allowed in here, as students, but Harry, Ron and I always come in here on adventures. It's pretty spooky but pretty exciting and an adventure in a nutshell, you know?"

            She sat down on a moss that was growing over some large rocks and kicked off her shoes. She then wiggled her toes and sighed. "Ahh… now that feels good."

            Harry stood watching her curiously. Never had a female ever taken off her shoes in front of him. It was against society's rules.

             Hermione watched him look at her toes. She wiggled them a bit more for fun, watching as his eyes widened. Grinning, she lifted one foot and waved her toes at him. "Never seen toes before, Harry?"

            His head snapped up to hers, an eyebrow raised. "Sorry… I've just… well. It's against the rules for women to show their feet."

            Hermione burst out laughing, laughing so hard that she fell off the rock. Finally standing unsteadily to her feet, she looked at him. "Really? And what else isn't acceptable?"

            "Ehh… showing ankles and legs… and arms… and doing un-ladylike things," continued Harry, looking at her crazily. "Don't tell me these things are tolerable where you live?"

            "Oooh yeah," smirked Hermione, before rummaging through her bag. "I guess we just are allowed to be more… liberal than you can." She looked up, showing him her pearly whites. "Jump start into the twenty-first century love… you're a bit behind."

            Harry wrinkled his nose up. "Excuse me," he began, "It _is_ two-thousand and three, woman. It is the twenty-first century."

            Hermione's hands stilled. She had thought that she had fallen into the past alternate world… not one that had the same time s hers. Looking at Harry, she said, "What year?"

            "Two-thousand and three."

            "Two-thousand and three."

            "Yes, two-thousand and three. Are you deaf?"

            "_A-ppar-ent-ly_. No, I'm not deaf you overgrown prick," snapped Hermione, standing and walking towards one of her shoes. She picked it up and slipped it on, hopping around on one foot and giving Harry a good view of her panties every once in a while from underneath her Gryffindor pleated skirt.

            He gulped and turned his back on her. 

            "We're about twelve hours away from the nearest village. If we start now, we could make it there before sundown," he said. 

            _Oh yay,_ thought Hermione, sarcastically in her head. _Just what I want, a bloody walk in the park. Oh well. It could be worse._

            It could. It would be like some freak Murphy's Law, like when someone says it can't get worse, but it really does and everyone goes, "Don't jinx it!"

            Or something like that, and that's what happened.

            It began to rain. And not just drizzle lightly, but also coming down in buckets, making the two teenagers completely soaked to the skin. Of course, that would mean that once dried off, Hermione's hair would frizz and without any aid to smooth her hair, she was going to scare the little kids away. Brilliant.

            Harry walked alongside Hermione, leading her towards the village. He just wasn't sure what to make of this girl. One minute she looked like she belonged in his world, and the next she went off proving him just how different she was. And even though he was saying "world" loosely, he still wasn't sure that she was just an exiled witch, and not a world-jumper.

            _Still…_ Harry thought, as he watched her as she moved in front of him, pushing away branches and making sure they snapped back in his face. _She's got a nice backside._

--//\\--

            It was almost sundown when the rain finally let up. A setting sun peaked out from behind dark gray clouds that rolled slowly over the lush green hillside that Harry and Hermione stood on, staring down at a small village. 

            The village had thatched roofs, with stone walls. There were fences around some of the buildings, but only those that had cows and horses grazing in their pastures. Somewhere, music was being played – it was a tune that Hermione knew but couldn't place. It took her a while to realize that it was the tune that the harp played back in her first year at Hogwarts when she and her friends went to stop Snape – Quirrell – from getting the Philosopher's Stone.

            Ah, memories. 

            Hermione took in a deep breath, smiling as she stretched open her arms and swung around in a small circle. She carefully noted Harry's eyes on her, but did not acknowledge him. Instead, she asked, "Are we going there, tonight?"

            "Yes," replied the Prince. "That's where Ron and his family lives."

            Hermione frowned. "Why so far from the castle if he's your squire?"

            Harry shrugged. "His family didn't totally serve mine, you know, wench. Ron only grew up at the castle because his parents knew my father's adviser, the first Grand Vizier."

            "And where is this old Grand Vizier, and who was he?" asked Hermione, curiosity getting the best of her.

            Harry glanced at her, before slowly starting down the gently sloping hill. "His name was Albus Dumbledore – he, however, disappeared shortly after the Grand Vizier showed up."

            "Voldemort," came the whisper.

            Harry turned to see that Hermione had not followed him, but stood rooted to the spot on the hill where he told her the old Vizier's name. He wondered if there was a Grand Vizier in her world that was like his Dumbledore.

            "Do you know him?" Harry asked, mentally hitting himself. Of course she didn't _know_ Dumbledore, his Dumbledore.

            "Yes," she whispered, before moving to stand beside him. "He's my Headmaster. He runs Hogwarts."

            "He's a wizard too, then?" replied Harry.

            Hermione nodded and together they walked towards the village. Harry wondered what she was thinking about, and wondered if he'd ask if she'd tell him. _Probably not_, he mentally chided himself. He was a spoiled Prince of two deceased royals. People either treated him with awed respect and stared at him too often, or disliked him completely, like Captain Lucius' son. 

            He sighed, too softly for Hermione to hear, before continuing with his mental monologue. He wished that he could be a normal teenager. Not a Prince with royal duties that he needed to worry about, because that wasn't fun. He envied Ron and his family, and the closeness that he never had. He didn't have family, and spent most of his younger years running and hiding from tutors when the Vizier hadn't made his move yet to take control of the Leonis castle. 

            The Vizier. Harry felt the anger swoop low in his stomach before nearly consuming his lungs, making it hard to breath. He wanted to kill the man, but knew he couldn't. He still wasn't powerful enough to take on the Vizier. What had Hermione called him? Ah, yes, he remembered now. She called him _Voldemort_.

            A shiver ran up his spine as the name whispered across his conscious, making the tiniest bit of fear push back his anger. There was something in that name that demanded you take notice of him and make you fear him. Harry didn't like it one bit. 

            "What are you thinking of? You're not normally this quiet," came Hermione's voice from his right. He turned and looked at her. Really looked at her, for the first time.

            She was his age, he knew, and of average height (but always complaining that her Harry and Ron towered over her). She had shoulder-length wavy brown hair that was thick and often a bit frizzy around the crown area. She had large brown eyes that stood out against the black lashes that framed them, and two finely arched eyebrows. She had a slim body, with curves that would make any teenager's blood boil, and of course had those pouty lips that demanded attention – and to be kissed. 

            Harry turned his head away, blushing slightly. He hadn't meant to think that – it had just popped in there. Besides, she was a commoner, someone he wasn't supposed to even think about, much less romantically. 

            Oh, but how he _wished_. 

            Just once did he wish to be "normal", and just once did he wish that he could throw all his worries, responsibilities, fears away and be free, like she obviously was. 

            But that wasn't the case, he realized a bit later, as they began to walk through the empting town. Her eyes had wariness about them, and often when she thought he wasn't looking, looked sad and much older than they should be. 

            He wondered what she had seen in her lifetime. And wondered if he could ever share it. 

            Tripping over a loose rock, Harry stumbled but managed to catch himself. He cursed in a low voice, before looking up to see where they were. In front of them was a large house that had many additions added to it. Parts looked ready to fall over, and it appeared that the stones surrounding the small estate were all that was holding it together.

            Harry glanced at Hermione. "This is the Weasley's residence, woman. They'll take us in and listen to your story without prejudice against you. We will be safe here"—

            "For a bit, I get it, I get it," said Hermione off-handedly. "Let's just go in there. I want to ask Molly if she has a hot bath or something ready for me… and maybe engage Percy in a discussion about this world. I just hope George and Fred don't offer me anything to eat. I don't fancy being turned into another one of their victims for their new prank."

            Harry stared at her in open-mouth wonder. "How – How did you know …? All their… name?"

            Hermione shrugged. "Other world, remember?"

            Harry nodded dumbly, before leading her to the worn and chipped wood knocker on the door. Harry dropped it twice, before they waited in silence. 

            The door opened, revealing four blue eyes. Hermione rolled her own pair, knowing _exactly_ who answered the door. 

            "Mum!" one shouted. "It's the Prince! He's here for some odd reason!"

            "Just let me in," sighed Harry. "It's been a bad day."

            Hermione frowned, narrowing her gaze at him. The twins opened the door wider, blocking the entrance. 

            "Not until you tell us which is which," they chorused. Hermione snorted. Harry could never tell George and Fred apart, and even Ron and the other Weasleys have had problems sometimes. Hermione was gifted at it. 

            "You know I can't tell you two apart," sighed Harry. 

            Fred (Hermione was sure of it, he had slightly more freckles than George and his eyes were a deeper blue, like midnight) laughed. "Well, you'd better try, sire."

            Hermione snorted. "Fred, it's cold out here. Open the damn door, and tell George to step back because I am in _no mood_ to listen to the two of you play pranks and think that making us stand out here and wait will amuse you."

            Fred, who was holding the door open, stared open-mouth at Hermione before swinging the door back and letting them in. Harry looked at Hermione with an amused and awed expression, before giving a smug smile to Fred. 

            George, who was standing on the inside of the small hallway, ignored Harry and moved straight to Hermione. "Milady, it is an honor to meet you. Pray tell, what is your name?" He snatched her hand and kissed the knuckles lightly, like someone from a historical romance novel. Or something.

            "Hermione Granger," Hermione replied, removing her hand from his grasp. "And don't even try getting me to eat any of your candy, George."

            George raised an eyebrow. "Do I know you?"

            Hermione gave a saucy grin. "Oh yeah. But just not in this world."

            Before Hermione could give too much information away, Harry grabbed her hand and pulled her towards him, slamming his other free hand over her mouth. 

            "Forgive her. Some times she's delusional."

            "I thought all those Princesses were that you courted Harry," replied an entertained Fred, leading them to the kitchen in the Weasley household.  

            "MTTHRFUUKR!" snarled Hermione behind Harry's hand, glaring at him. George and Fred laughed. 

            "Spirited too. Never met a Princess like her."

            "Er… she's not exactly a Princess, twins," answered Harry, looking decidedly uneasy. "Are Arthur and Molly around?"

            "In the kitchen of course. Dad found some new toys to tinkle with," said George. Harry nodded and together they all walked into the kitchen, which looked just like the one in the Burrow. Molly and Ginny were baking something (without magic, of course), Arthur was showing Ron and Percy something he was looking at, and Bill and Charlie were discussing a sport of some sort. 

            Harry removed his hand from Hermione's mouth, and called out a greeting. "Hullo Weasley's!"  
            Everyone looked up and smiled when they saw him. 

            "Hullo Harry!" came the chorused reply. The sight made Hermione sick. 

            "Oh please," she all but groaned. "That was too lovey-dovey for me. Excuse me while I throw up. I'm about to get cavities."

            She sunk down on a free chair (after checking for now Weasley's [Wizard] Wheezes) and watched with disgust and fascination as Harry and Ron greeted each other. There was no distinction between class, and the way that Ron spoke to Harry… it made her shudder. 

            It was like having her two best friends fighting all over again. Ron wasn't as free and loud as he normally was in her world here. He was refined and holding back on his feelings. Hermione didn't like it. It made her think about the Triwizard Tournament and how Ron was jealous of Harry's popularity. She wondered if he was jealous of his high-ranking title and his low one. Arthur wasn't even a Lord or Duke or Thane or whatever. He was just normal farmer… or herder. 

            "And who is this friend, Harry?"

            Hermione looked up, only to catch the end of the discussion. Standing, she held out her hand and shook Arthur's surprised one. "Hermione Granger. Nice to see you, Mr. Weasley. What's that you've got there?"

            "Oh, you don't want to hear that," said Ron, moving to stand next to her. He was decidedly warmer with her, noticing she didn't have a title to her name. "It's just something of Dad's."

            "No, really. I'm interest," replied Hermione, beaming as she sat down in Ron's used chair, only to give a start when she saw the object. "Where did you get this?"

            "Well," began Arthur, his ears turning red. "You see… there are some strange things in our universe, and well…"

            Molly sighed. "Arthur! Did you go to Leonis Castle _again_, and bring home their junk?"

            "It's not junk, Molly," said Arthur defensively. "This was in the junk room, yes, but these unusual items are not junk."

            "One person's trash is another person's treasure," said Hermione quietly from where she sat. Arthur started and looked at her with meaning.

            "Yes, yes, of course," he finally said, grinning a bit. He pushed the object towards Hermione. "Now, I don't know what it is, or how it works, but it is the most amazing thing…"

            "It's not unusual. Not for me at least," sighed Hermione. "And it's mine."

            "Yours?" asked Harry, standing behind her. "But I thought you had everything when we left?"

            "Apparently some other things must have come through whatever gate I did," Hermione frowned. "The space-time continuum isn't that solid or completely reasonable."

            "Space-time continuum?" asked Charlie, looking at Hermione. 

            "Well. I guess I should start off with my story, eh?" she grinned, before launching into her tale. She explained everything, waved her wand a bit, did some spells, and then finally pointed at the object again. 

            "That's my Crookshanks," she said evenly. 

            "What's a Crookshanks?" asked Ron, confused. 

            "That's a Crookshanks," answered Fred and George, clearly enjoying the confusion that everyone was showing. 

            "Crookshanks is my pet cat," explained Hermione, sighing. Everyone had a look on his or her face that clearly said, _Oooh_.

            Then: "That is not a cat."

            Hermione groaned and let her head fall onto the wooden table. She banged it lightly and then placed her head in her hands. She was in an unknown world, with an unknown way to get back, and she was stuck with a Ron that undoubtedly had the same IQ level as **_her_** Ron. Bugger.

            Finally, Arthur said in a kindly voice, "No worries, Hermione. We'll help you get home, and even make sure that you have a roof over your head and protection while you're here."

            "Oh, it's not protection that I need," sighed Hermione. "It's… well… forget it. I'll worry about it on my own time. You're doing so much for me already. Thank you."

            She gave Arthur a wobbly smile, before sighing and turning to Harry. "So, Potter. Where is this bracelet that we need to get?"

            "I told you, I don't remember," answered the young man. 

            "And I told _you_, we'll retrace its steps to find it. So, where do we start?" Hermione finished off sternly. 

            Harry sighed, running a hand over and down his face, feeling the stubble that was growing already. 

            Ron blurted, "I'm going to help you two."

            "Great!" "Absolutely not!" "Are you sure?" all rang through the kitchen. Hermione, Harry and Molly had all spoken at the same time, and they watched Ron turn red with embarrassment. 

            "Mum, I'm going to help them. I'm Harry's squire, and Hermione's friend in another world. It's only reasonable," he argued. 

            "Dear God," Percy mumbled, "Did I just hear the word, _reasonable_, slip out of my baby brother's lips?"

            Ron grinned, his ears and neck now fully red, before he nodded. "I want to do this. I feel like I need to do this."

            "Well," sighed Arthur. "You'd best be on your way at first light tomorrow to the Wizard's Keep."

            "The what?" asked Hermione, frowning. 

            "Wizard's Keep. It's where all the old Grand Vizier's are buried. It's like a temple of a sort, and if you need guidance, you'll find it there," explained Bill; the firelight of Molly's old-fashioned stove glittering off Bill's earring. 

            "Great," moaned Hermione. "More walking. Just what I've always wanted. And what happens when we get there?"

            "We get guidance," said Harry, a smirk on his lips. 

            "I know that," snarled Hermione back, glaring at him. 

            "Well, just wanted to make sure, woman," said the Prince. Hermione swore that if he didn't stop calling her 'woman', he was going to end up on his backside in a matter of milliseconds. 

            "The name," grounded out Hermione, "Is HERMIONE."

            Harry nodded understandingly. "I understand, woman."

            Hermione didn't stop herself as she strode forward, slapped Harry upwards against the back of his head and let him fall face-first on the ground, with his backside in the air. She clapped her hands off, taking invisible dirt away from her, before looking down at the Prince. 

            "Prince or not, you're a human. Now stop acting like some God and get your head out of your arse. Tomorrow morning, you will call me _Hermione_, or you won't be able to see out of one of your eyes," threatened the young woman. "Got it?"

            Rubbing the back of his head in pain, Harry could only nod slowly. Hermione then stalked off to another part of the Weasley's, leaving Ron grinning after her. 

            "She's right. She doesn't need any protection." He glanced down at his friend, a thought rising in his mind. In speculation, he voiced, "I can see now why you fancy this girl, Harry."

            Ron's reply was a moan of pain. Grinning, Ron set off to find this otherworldly Hermione. He had his answer.

**//\\**

AN: Not too much action or romance in this chapter, but more characterization. Leave a review with you name and comments – and suggestions. I love hearing them!


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